


The Gravity of Us

by prototyping



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Romance, Slow Burn, UST: The Novel basically, can you have slow burn in a one-shot? i'm here to prove yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: But they were friends first, soldiers-in-arms second. They didn’t simply arrive at night and depart the next morning as though it were a scheduled, detached affair. Their lives were more intertwined than that.(Or, Dimitri and Byleth navigate the end of the war and the changes it’s wrought in them both, and find themselves inevitably drawn together along the way.)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 132





	The Gravity of Us

Dimitri jerked awake with a grunt, straightening up in his chair and quickly blinking the sleep out of his eyes. When he was greeted by silence rather than Gilbert’s voice explaining the latest trade route expansions, he feared for an instant that his slip had been noticed—except, as the meeting room faded into focus, he realized it was empty but for himself and the professor, who sat across from him with her head bent over a collection of maps.

“Professor?” His voice was thin, a little unsteady. Even his fleeting dreams during the day were unpleasant.

“You didn’t miss anything,” she said without looking up. “I want to run these plans by you later, but there’s no rush.”

“The meeting’s over?”

“It ended half an hour ago.”

He frowned as he shifted in his seat, popping his stiff neck. “No one thought to wake me?”

Now Byleth did glance at him, one eyebrow raised. “You needed the rest. And it was nothing critical.”

But it _was_ mildly embarrassing—and yet, he could hardly be angry with his friends for being considerate. As it often did, Dimitri’s negativity turned inward.

“I apologize. Critical or not, it won’t do for me to miss my own war council.”

“I’m not the one you should apologize to. You’re only hurting yourself with all these late nights.”

His mouth tightened as he avoided her gaze. “Had I more hours in a day, it wouldn’t be necessary. I can rest properly once this is over.”

It wouldn’t end with the war, he knew. Next came restoration efforts, political resolutions, economical planning… and even if the country did see some semblance of normalcy anytime soon, a king’s daily life, even during peaceful times, was far from a relaxed affair.

Judging by the look on Byleth’s face, she was thinking along similar lines. As she returned to her maps, she merely remarked, “Go get some sleep. I’ll come get you when it’s time for dinner.”

Dimitri couldn’t help the tired smile that tugged at his mouth. He appreciated the extent of her informality, partly since it was one of the few things that hadn’t changed since their happier academy days. She deferred to his opinion and his orders on most matters now, but unofficially, the two of them were much the same as they had been.

And like in their academy days, Dimitri could find no room or reason to argue with her. “Thank you. But please, wake me before then if anything comes up.” He moved to stand, only to pause on the edge of his seat.

This chair wasn’t the most comfortable place to nap, but Goddess knew he’d slept in much worse conditions before now. More importantly, it was quiet here, and he felt more relaxed than usual.

“If it’s alright with you,” he proposed slowly, “I’d like to stay here. To sleep,” he added quickly, catching her skeptical look. When it turned puzzled, he dropped his gaze to the table. “I think… I’m more at ease with people around. I rest easier.”

It was a partial truth. Busy hallways and crowded rooms still made him anxious, the five-year-long habit of constantly looking over his shoulder having left its mark. There was more than one reason he preferred to visit the cathedral so late at night now, and why he directly avoided the marketplace.

But in places like this, small and enclosed and surrounded by those he knew he could trust, he could feel safe. Byleth’s presence, especially, calmed his instincts and soothed the panicked itch in his bones, effectively coaxing the cornered animal out of its shadows.

For a moment she only stared at him. He began to fear he’d said too much, asked too much.

“Let’s both go to your room, then,” she offered. “I can work in there.”

“Oh—no, I didn’t mean—Professor, you don’t need to—”

But she was already gathering her things as she stood.

Dimitri had never felt as self-conscious about the state of his room as he did when they entered it minutes later. The unmade bed, moth-eaten curtains, and dusty desk were the only furnishings, and he wished he’d considered picking up some of the clothes scattered about the floor before now. Some habits were hard to shake, but others, like cleanliness and order, had been lost somewhere along the way.

“I’m sorry for the state of things,” he told her, watching as she carefully reorganized the papers already cluttering the desktop. “I know it’s… bare, to say the least.”

Byleth hummed thoughtfully. “As long as you’re comfortable, that’s what matters. But maybe we can pick out some flowers later.” She flashed him a mild smile that made his heart skip a beat. “A little color couldn’t hurt.”

“Yes—perhaps so. I would like that, I mean,” he threw in, and winced at himself when she turned away.

The same as their academy days, indeed.

Without prompting, Byleth drew the curtains closed and lit the candle atop the desk to see by. From there she left Dimitri to his own devices as she busied herself with her maps once more.

Between her presence and the soft candlelight, the room felt more welcoming and comfortable than it had in years—or perhaps ever. By the time he removed his cloak and armor, the weight of sleep was gathering on his shoulders again. He lay down facing her, atop the covers, and watched her as she worked, her idle movements and the glimpses of her concentrated expression. The soft scratch of her quill was the only sound.

The sudden roar of agonized screams sent Dimitri scrambling upright. The sound faded as quickly as it had come, leaving the abrupt silence to weigh almost painfully on his ears until his pounding head was ringing.

He pressed his palms into his eyes with a sharp sigh, until stars replaced the ghostly faces flickering behind his eyelids. His clammy skin slowly warmed as he steadied his breathing.

He raised his head to find there was no longer any daylight peeking around the curtains. The candle on the desk was burning low, and beside it Byleth lay with her head on one arm and her eyes closed.

Dimitri’s next sigh was one of relief. He climbed awkwardly out of bed, his body still buzzing with anxiety. Not the most peaceful sleep he’d had, but he did feel better rested compared to before. He was sure Byleth would be glad to know her advice had done him some good.

He stopped beside her and glanced over her maps and notes, but his attention soon wandered to her instead. It seemed he wasn’t the only one overworking lately: she was in a deep sleep by the looks of it, snoring softly and curled in on herself a bit as though cold. She’d shed her coat and it was hard to keep his eye from admiring how soft her bare arms looked. Likewise, it was tempting to brush her hair back from where it had fallen across her cheek.

With a nearly silent growl, Dimitri forced those thoughts aside and snatched up his cloak from the bed to drape it—carefully—over Byleth’s shoulders. She didn’t so much as stir.

With her papers and the candle in hand, Dimitri sat on the bed to look them over. He had no idea what time it was, but his nerves were still shaken in the wake of his dark dreams and he didn’t see sleep returning anytime soon.

As focused as he was, he didn’t know Byleth had awoken until she spoke some time later. “I thought the purpose of coming here was so you could rest.”

Looking up, he just barely made her out on the edge of the candle’s bubble of light. Her half-smile was questioning.

“Just as you came here to work. Since you took a break, it only seemed fair that I should take over for you,” he countered with a smile. She gave an amused exhale as she stretched her arms over her head; he quickly looked back down to avoid lingering on the way the movement pulled her shirt higher on her waist. “I, ah—” He cleared his throat. “I think your routes are promising. I have some questions about soldier distribution, but I agree with the placements and timing.”

He heard Byleth rise. He didn’t think much of it, or of her approach, until she suddenly climbed into the bed to sit beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder. She still clutched his cloak around herself, drawing her knees up to her chest as she peered at the topmost paper in his hands. “Which part?” she wondered.

It took Dimitri a moment to find his voice. “...The—here—regarding the infantry along the southern part of the river.” He stole a sidelong glimpse at her. She looked utterly casual, unfazed by their proximity and position. Was he overthinking things? Or was this just one of her… social oddities, as he had come to consider them?

He didn’t mind the gesture—quite the contrary—but the very thought of their roles being reversed, of _him_ being bold enough to slip in beside her in _her_ room, was nearly enough to make him flush slightly. He would be mortified by the implications—

He smothered the thought as the two of them fell into discussion. The distraction was an effective one, although he noticed every time their skins touched and shoulders brushed and the way Byleth would run her fingers through her hair when thinking. 

Guilt gnawed at him. Even if he wasn’t thinking anything indecent, necessarily, she was trusting him as someone she _could_ be this casual around, all while he was behaving like that enamoured schoolboy of the past.

“I see,” he said finally, tapping the papers against his knee to straighten them. “We can discuss this with the council tomorrow, although I doubt anyone will have any objections.” He noticed her watching him. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you get much sleep? You still look tired.”

“Ah. Truthfully, I’m—” He bit back the words _always tired_ , afraid of how that might sound. “...not used to napping in the middle of the day. I’m sure I’ll fare better after a night’s rest.”

Byleth hummed. “Is that a promise, then? You’ll go to bed at a decent hour tonight?”

“Well… I shall _try_ , but… it looks as though it’s already getting late, and there are a few things I need to...” She only continued to stare at him and Dimitri gave a defeated chuckle. “It’s difficult to deny you anything, my friend. I… might be able to compromise. If you wouldn’t mind overseeing the morning meeting, I’ll use that time to catch up on what I’d planned to do tonight.”

The smile it prompted was worth it in itself. “Sounds reasonable,” Byleth agreed.

“If I may be so bold,” he added, “it would please me to know you didn’t stay up too late yourself. I’m starting to suspect you’re more tired than you let on.”

Her lips gave a wry twist and he had to force himself not to look at them. “Fine. We’ll both take an early night. Which means—” She leaned into him playfully. “I’m trusting you not to be sneaky. Don’t go back on your word, Dimitri.”

His laugh was a little fuller this time. “I promise, I’ll do no such thing.”

* * *

While they each upheld their end of the bargain after that, Dimitri knew it wasn’t realistically something he could afford to arrange _every_ night. When he said as much to her the next day, Byleth didn’t seem surprised.

“I’ll take what I can get,” she assured him. “But… if my being there yesterday really helped you sleep better, I don’t mind doing it again.” The look in her eyes was a serious one as she studied him. “I’d just be working in my room at night, anyway, so it’s no trouble moving upstairs for a while. If you wanted me to,” she added casually, giving him a clear way out of the offer.

“I’d like that,” he blurted almost instantly, much to his chagrin. “Only when it wouldn’t be taking any time out of your day,” he threw in quickly. “I’m… more than willing to do the same in return, of course, although I’m sure you don’t need it.”

It was said half in jest, a clumsy redirection of his embarrassment—so Byleth surprised him when after a moment she gave a thoughtful nod and said simply, “Okay.”

* * *

As far as routines went, it was one that Dimitri had an easier time keeping to. It wasn’t always feasible with their growing list of responsibilities and days spent on the road with the army, but at the very least they found the chance to spend the evening together a couple times a week. On most nights one would work at the desk while the other slept, although now and again they stayed up together—sometimes planning, sometimes talking about anything and everything else. While the intention was to keep each other company just long enough to get some work done, half the time they ended up falling asleep in the chair until morning.

Dimitri didn’t mind either way. Late nights passed quickly and more mercifully with Byleth around, even when she was sleeping. Her soft, heavy breathing was the rhythm that kept him focused; keeping her in the corner of his eye banished the ghostly faces that would usually appear to haunt him during the late hours in particular.

When he slept in her company, he slept more soundly. His nightmares didn’t cease—he was resigned to the thought that they never would—but they seemed shorter, less intense, and didn’t wake him as often.

Even on the rare night that there wasn’t any deskwork to be done, no letters to be written or plans to be drawn, Dimitri would take his place at her desk nonetheless. He didn’t _lie_ about it—there were always military texts to consult and add to his knowledge, if nothing else—but he was less than forthcoming about his desire to simply be around her whenever possible.

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t escape Byleth’s notice for long.

“You read a lot more these days,” she commented one night, startling him out of his thoughts. Dimitri glanced down at the open book in his hand, although his gaze had, rather obviously, been absently transfixed on the window for a while now.

“I suppose so.” He smiled apologetically at her. “If the light is disturbing you, I can continue some other time.”

She had rolled onto her back, her hair splayed gently across her pillow and shoulders. Not for the first time, he wondered how soft it was. “It isn’t. But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

As observant as ever. And quick to the point, besides.

Dimitri closed the book, avoiding her eyes. “It’s nothing like that, Professor.”

“I don’t mind you being here. You don’t need an excuse to visit. But if there’s something on your mind, you don’t have to hide it.”

He held his breath for a few beats. There was always plenty on his mind. He had two reasons for being here, he figured, but he wasn’t sure he could talk about the first one. Rather, he needed to sort his feelings out with himself to be absolutely sure of them before he attempted to put them into words. And even then, he wasn’t sure he could manage.

As for the second…

He let the breath out, low and steady. “I don’t… sleep well, on some nights. Or I don’t sleep at all, even when I try. It’s… different when I am here.”

_With you._

He stole a glimpse at her, but her expression was neutral. A cold tendril of doubt coiled in his chest. “I suppose it’s a strange thing to... I apologize for taking advantage of the situation, Professor—”

“Come here.”

Dimitri stared as Byleth sat up, gesturing him over to her. Puzzled, he nonetheless obliged and stood uncertainly beside the bed to await further instruction. She moved closer to the wall and indicated the closer half of the mattress. “Sit.”

Had they not sat together on their beds several times before now, he might have impulsively, politely refused. With her even, expectant gaze on him as it was, he could only obey, sitting on the edge and turning so he could face her properly.

She adjusted the comforter to toss half of it across his lap. “This is better than the chair.”

“Professor—I didn’t mean—I couldn’t possibly—”

“It’s fine,” she said coolly, and he almost jumped when she touched his arm. Nothing in her face betrayed even a hint of uncertainty. “If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to.”

He _was_ uncomfortable, although perhaps not in the way she was thinking.

“No, not at all. It’s… just that I—you shouldn’t feel obligated, Professor. It was never my intention to impose.”

Her touch fell away, but she gave him a half-smile as she nodded at the desk. “I don’t see much of a difference between here and there, except that this is more comfortable. But do what you want. I’ll understand either way.” That said, she lay down and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, facing the wall.

Dimitri stared down at her, sifting through a few emotions. He felt relieved and warmed by the thought that she trusted him so—and yet, a more selfish part of him felt almost disappointed that she could look at the situation so much more indifferently than he.

Evidence of how differently they viewed each other, surely.

But Byleth had a point, and he didn’t doubt that she was honest about her feelings on the matter. Refusing could give her the wrong impression.

After a few more seconds of deliberation, he finally—carefully—slipped down beneath the blanket, likewise keeping his back to her, and hastily apologized when their legs brushed. The bed was just wide enough to have a bit of space between their bodies, if they both remained still.

* * *

Before long, this too became the norm.

At first it was simply a logical habit to develop. Besides sleeping better in her presence, Dimitri was still struggling to readjust his frame of mind when it came to sleeping indoors again, in a place where his location was common knowledge to anyone around. With Byleth nearby, every little creak wasn’t an assassin seeking to slit his throat, nor every footstep in the hallway worth starting out of his sleep over. Even if his paranoia hadn’t been a factor, it was still a good precaution to take. The two of them were the most probable targets in the event of an attack; it certainly didn’t hurt to have one another’s back when they were most vulnerable.

But they were friends first, soldiers-in-arms second. They didn’t simply arrive at night and depart the next morning as though it were a scheduled, detached affair. Their lives were more intertwined than that.

Whenever Dimitri worked too long and missed a meal, Byleth brought him food from the dining hall and didn’t chastise his habits. If he found her drifting off at the desk or, sometimes, in the library or war room, he carried her back to bed without waking her. Just as they took shifts working and sleeping, they also took turns making morning and evening tea for the two of them to share. If Byleth rose first in the morning, she would set clean clothes out for him. When Dimitri set time aside for weapon maintenance in the evening, he would see to her sword and dagger, as well.

After returning to her room one night following a sparring session and subsequent baths, Byleth brushed out her damp hair and then, saying nothing, sat behind him on the bed to do the same to his. He hoped she didn’t notice the goosebumps on his skin every time her fingers lightly grazed his scalp.

It was strange to have some semblance of structure and organization to his time again. It was stranger still to have someone else be a part of it, for another person to be such a positive constant in his day-to-day life. The strangest thing of all, however, was how natural it began to feel after a while. It felt _right_ , almost, even as the darkness inside him simmered and raged, whispered and screamed that he didn’t deserve even the simplest of such comforts.

More than once he awoke in a cold sweat, choking on frustration and self-loathing as his head throbbed with the disparaging shrieks of the dead, and nearly fled from the warm bed, the room, the comforting routine, all of it.

And every time a gentle hand reached out and caught him. It never grabbed him, never held him down. It was just a touch—a palm on his back or fingers curved tenderly over his shoulder. The touch would linger, inviting but patient, featherlight but grounding.

And Dimitri would always turn back to her.

* * *

Dimitri preferred sparring with Byleth over anyone else.

It seemed like she always knew when he wanted to talk and when he wanted to trade blows in silence. He felt more confident against her, more at ease in his skin knowing she could match his strength. She could even control it with the way she turned his own momentum and eager speed against him, redirecting what she couldn’t take head-on and always finding an opening, a weakness. Around her, he could focus and think more clearly, trusting her to pick up the slack when he slipped, to take anything he dealt and walk away just fine.

She was no longer his professor, but she was still teaching him in a way, guiding him steadily and patiently to a place where fear didn’t temper his every movement. 

So it was a cold awakening the night their spears clashed hard enough for hers to splinter halfway down the shaft, a jagged edge catching her hand and slicing open her palm in a startling blossom of crimson.

Byleth didn’t make a sound, merely wincing and then frowning as blood trickled over her skin. Dimitri nearly choked on his shame.

“I—I’m so sorry, Professor—I didn’t—I wasn’t minding my strength—I should have—”

She blinked at him as though he’d just stated that the sky was green. “No, it’s fine,” she replied coolly. “I could tell the wood was brittle. I was trying to see how far I could push it by distributing the focus of my grip differently.” Her smile was a kind one. “I pushed my luck. Don’t worry about it.”

Even so, unease twisted tight in Dimitri’s stomach as he followed her over to the cabinet on the far wall, the one that held basic medical supplies for incidents such as these. He watched guiltily as she wiped at the blood with a cloth. He felt worse when the bleeding didn’t appear to slow down.

Byleth held out a roll of gauze towards him. “Would you mind? I can probably slow it long enough to get it wrapped up, but I’ll need another hand.”

Dimitri stared. “I…”

She took his hand in her good one. He’d removed his gloves as they sparred and the skin-on-skin contact sent an excited spark through him that was immediately chased by a fresh wave of guilt.

“I know you can do it.” Her voice was kind, but with a firmness to it that brooked no argument. Slowly, he nodded.

They sat on a bench as Dimitri held her small hand and carefully— _very_ carefully—began winding the gauze around it. As he worked, Byleth concentrated a small healing spell into her skin. He knew enough about the healing arts to know the palm was one of the more difficult places on the body to heal directly. Even if she saw Manuela and avoided using it for a few days, it wouldn’t be an immediate fix.

“Dimitri.”

He broke from his thoughts to find her watching him with a knowing expression.

“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly. “Even if it was, accidents happen.”

Except accidents happened a _lot_ when he was involved.

He said nothing, uncertain how to respond.

Byleth placed her hand against his cheek. He froze.

Even if they had been—for lack of a better phrase—sleeping together on and off for a while now, this was the most… _personal_ touch that either of them had initiated. No, not personal. Intimate?

It took him a moment to realize his breath had caught and his hands had gone still. If Byleth noticed his surprise, she didn’t comment on it; she merely looked over his face slowly, studiously, as though searching for something.

“You make that face a lot,” she murmured. “Especially in your sleep.”

He looked away for a moment, before remembering himself and returning his attention to wrapping her hand. “I’m… alright. I don’t like seeing you hurt, is all.”

Her touch moved up, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. “It’s not so bad if I have you there to help patch me up. You’re doing just fine.”

A small part of him couldn’t resist preening slightly at the praise, as if he were once again a student with a smitten hunger for her acknowledgement. The latter was still true, he knew, even if his shame tried again and again to snuff those feelings out.

“Besides,” said Byleth, “I distinctly recall giving you a few bruises back at the start of things. We don’t exactly have a clean history when it comes to training together.”

The memory tugged at the corner of his mouth. “ ‘A few bruises?’ Professor, the first time we sparred, you gave me a black eye.”

She also smiled, and then quickly broke into a grin when she noticed his expression. Their soft laughter carried over the training grounds.

“What I’m getting at is that we’re even in that regard,” she said. “It’s a good thing. I feel like I can just be myself around you... I don’t have to hold back so much.”

Dimitri stole a surprised glimpse at her, and then resumed tying off her bandage. “I feel the same.” Finished, he reluctantly withdrew his hands. He watched as Byleth rotated her arm, testing his work, and then smiled at him. He felt his heart predictably skip a beat.

“Thanks. It feels good.” She gathered her coat as she stood. “That’s a good place to stop, don’t you think?”

She continued to lift his spirits with idle talk on the way to the bath house. They met again outside once finished, and then headed to her quarters to retire for the night.

Dimitri sat down at her desk to review a few letters before bed, tying his damp hair back for now while Byleth sat on the bed and brushed hers out like usual. It was a familiar scene, which was probably why he noticed the difference without trying: after a moment he glanced over and realized she was working one-handed, her bound hand resting in her lap.

He frowned. He turned back to his work.

After a moment more he looked at her again. “Professor— If you would like some help…” The idea struck him as foolish the moment it left his mouth and he faltered. “Of course—I’m not the best person for such tasks, so… I understand if you wouldn’t—”

“Dimitri.” Her gentle voice instantly shut him up. Her smile and outstretched hand beckoned him over.

He took the brush and sat on the bed beside her. Byleth brought her legs up as she turned away, hugging her knees and waiting.

As lightly as he could manage, he ran his fingers experimentally through her hair. He was surprised by how thick it was—his own felt rather thin in comparison—and he found it to be even softer than he had dared to imagine before now. It gave just as easily beneath the brush as he started—carefully—dragging the bristles through it, trying to mirror the same tenderness she’d used on him.

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” he said quietly. It sounded loud in the small room.

“You’re doing fine,” she assured him again, a smile in her voice.

The longer he brushed, the more the smell of her shampoo filled his nose, a mild and flowery scent that he recognized after so many nights at her side, that his pillows smelled of permanently even when she wasn’t present. He wondered if her skin smelled similar. He considered how soft the spot where her slender neck met her jaw would be if he leaned down and brushed his mouth against it.

Dimitri stopped. Byleth glanced over her shoulder. “All done?”

“Yes. I think so—if it’s alright with you.”

She thanked him as she took the brush back, and then turned around and gestured that he do the same. Once his back was turned, Byleth eased his hairband free and he marveled that she did so without any rough tugs or snags like he had a tendency toward. At a gentle word seeking permission, he nodded and she slipped his eye patch off, as well.

She likewise brushed his hair out with fingers first, and then the brush. Working one-handed made her a little slower, but Dimitri didn’t mind at all.

“You know,” she said after a minute, “I don’t think I’ve said it yet, but I appreciate you agreeing to this arrangement of ours. It’s not that I have trouble sleeping, really, but…” Her motions slowed to a stop. Dimitri felt her soft sigh tingle on the back of his neck. “It’s… comforting. To know you’re nearby, if… in case I sleep too long. Again.”

It wasn’t like her to speak so stiffly. Dimitri turned back to find her staring down at her lap, fiddling with the brush distractedly. Her bangs hid her expression.

“Are you… worried about such a thing?” he wondered.

“Maybe.” She sounded uncertain. “I doubt it could just— _happen_ out of the blue, but…” She shrugged a shoulder and smiled crookedly at him. “Having you around makes me feel… better. Safe.”

_Safe._

He wondered how many of their allies could say the same. Even if they trusted him well enough during the day, how many would feel _safe_ after seeing his late-night frenzies? Who would trust him not to accidentally snap their neck in a dazed panic?

“I’m… glad to be of help.” _Considering how I failed you the last time._ “Rest assured, Professor, I’ll always make sure you wake when you’re supposed to.”

“Always?” She shot him a look he couldn’t make out. He exhaled through his nose in something like an awkward laugh, glancing away.

“Perhaps that is wishful thinking. It’s inevitable that we’ll all grow apart someday, once this war is over.”

“I suppose…” Byleth leaned back on her good hand and crossed her bare legs. “What if we made another promise?” she asked suddenly.

“A promise?”

“We met here for the festival, like we said we would. Maybe something like that—we can promise to stay in touch, no matter how busy things get. No matter how far we might end up from each other.”

Dimitri considered that with a nod. “I would like that. Although, we can only speak for ourselves at the moment.”

Her gaze wandered away from him, something playing in her smile. “That’s alright. This promise can be just between us. We can make another one with everyone else later.”

_Just between us._

That probably shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did. He found it difficult to contain his growing smile.

“...Very well. I promise, come whatever may.”

* * *

With the battle for Enbarr swiftly approaching, their late nights became later and their workload often saw them both well into the night despite their efforts to divide it. The two of them spent as much time in Dimitri’s quarters as anywhere else, if not more, seeing to the countless maps and plans and routes and strategies that required reviewing, as well as all the letters, proposals, and declarations that still needed writing.

They often worked through tea and took their meals in the room, but even then the mountain of work rarely seemed to shrink. Neither of them saw a full night’s rest anymore, and yet it seemed every glance they traded was with a smile.

It was a hectic time, with little comfort to be had in the thought that he would see many similar days in the future. Even if Dimitri believed he had the right to complain, however, he wouldn’t have found reason to. He looked forward to the long hours spent with Byleth each day, even more so once he began to believe she felt the same.

More than once, watching her perched on the edge of his desk or leaned in beside him to read over his shoulder, Dimitri entertained the selfish hope that nights like these would never end. He wanted her at his side like this always—working together, _ruling_ together, and then retreating to bed together just to rise and do it all over again.

Were that a possibility, then the idea of officially taking the throne wouldn’t be nearly as intimidating—and the inevitability of going their separate ways wouldn’t hang on him like a shadow every day.

* * *

“Dimitri.”

He looked up to see Byleth standing in the doorway, arms crossed and expression stern. “You said you were going to rest.”

He bobbed his heavy head as he dipped his quill again. “And I shall. Soon.”

Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t so easily dismissed. Coming up behind him, she placed a warm hand on his good shoulder. “Come on,” she urged kindly. “You’re still recovering. The paperwork can wait a few hours.”

_Everyone_ was recovering, Byleth included. Even with Enbarr overthrown, rest wasn’t a luxury they could all immediately afford.

Dimitri doubted that reasoning would sway her, especially when he craned his neck to look at her and immediately winced at the bolt of pain that shot from his left shoulder to his fingertips.

“...Very well. You’re as persuasive as ever.”

She smiled, and then helped him straighten up the messy desk.

With his usual impeccable timing, a soft knock at the door announced Dedue’s arrival with a bucket of hot water. After thanking him, assuring him again that he need not go out of his way, and promising to retire shortly, Dimitri bid him goodnight and sat on the edge of the bed, the bucket on the floor at his feet.

“How’s it doing?” Byleth asked.

“Much better. If not for Mercedes’ recommendation and Dedue’s insistence, I wouldn’t have bothered treating it any further, to be honest. The pain is negligible.” Almost _too_ negligible, he thought, but he kept that to himself. Maybe he would regain movement in his left hand, maybe not, but there was no point dwelling on it.

He dipped a clean rag into the water and squeezed it out as Byleth took a seat beside him. “Would you like some help?”

_You’re nearly as bad as Dedue,_ he almost joked, only to think better of it when he noticed the concern lingering in her face. She wasn’t asking just to be polite, but because she did want to help. Once again, he found it difficult to deny her.

“Thank you. I would be grateful.”

He surrendered to her control entirely, which was a nice feeling, just like when she brushed his hair. He watched her quickly unbutton his shirt and carefully push it open, smoothing it back from his left shoulder. With gentle fingers she removed his bandage, and then regarded his wound in impassive silence for a moment before lightly pressing the hot rag against it. His eyes closed with a low grunt.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Is that too hard?”

“No. You can press harder. Please.”

She did so. A prickle of pain ran underneath the soothing heat, but Dimitri focused on the feeling of relief that seeped into his sore skin and the calming smell of healing herbs mixed with the water. Almost without thinking, he placed his hand over hers and applied a little more pressure. She caught on and mimicked him, but even then, his hand remained.

“How’s that?” she asked softly. It could have been minutes or only seconds later.

He gave a minute nod, almost fearful of breaking the silence with his own gruff voice.

“Good,” she murmured. She slipped her hand free to wet the rag again and repeated. The third time, she pressed it briefly to his shoulder and then moved higher, to his neck, across his collarbone, the light pats turning into gentle strokes. She was washing him.

His eye blinked open and he was met with her warm smile, a sight he suddenly and sorely wished he could be greeted by every day for the rest of his life.

“Is this okay?”

Unable to think of a better answer, Dimitri only nodded again. “Yes.”

She tended to his face next. Her fingertips burned hotter than the rag as they ghosted over his jaw, his cheek, and then the back of his neck when she carefully tilted his head forward. Her expression was concentrated, betraying nothing as she combed his hair out of the way with her fingers and removed his eyepatch, all incredibly gentle.

Then she returned to his body, but even as she massaged circles down his chest and stomach, her eyes were still on his face. Dimitri held the look, only vaguely aware that her movements had become slow and distracted.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, voice low.

“No. I was just thinking that you look… better. More focused lately.”

She was softening her observation, but he caught it all the same. It would be a lie to say he was simply _over_ all that had happened—over Edelgard—but time and everything that needed to be done were keeping him from dwelling on things too much, too long.

And, of course, there was Byleth herself.

“Thanks to you, in no small part,” he told her in earnest.

She chuckled. “Give yourself more credit.”

“I will, where it is due. But I do not exaggerate when I say I’m able to hold my head a little higher every day, because of you.”

Byleth tilted her head with a smaller smile. He watched the way a lock of her hair fell across the corner of her mouth. “That strength is all yours, Dimitri. All I did was watch your back until you found it.”

All too soon, she was done. Without prompting she replaced his bandage with a fresh one, tight in the way he liked, and gave his good shoulder a comforting squeeze. Dimitri watched her stand and move away, his chest tight and his throat closed with more unspoken words than he could count.

* * *

“Dimitri?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the socially acceptable way of telling someone, in letter format, to pull their head out of their ass?”

Dimitri tried and failed to smother his sympathetic grin. “There are a few options, but I feel as though being blunt suits your character best.”

“ _My_ character, maybe. Not so much the archbishop.” Dropping her quill into the well, Byleth leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head. “I don’t know how you and Rhea do it,” she muttered as her eyes drifted closed. “The _propriety_ that’s expected in these things is…”

“Frustrating?” he offered.

“Annoying as hell.”

A quiet chuckle escaped him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Byleth so… disgruntled before, but he couldn’t blame her. Of all the responsibilities she’d taken into account when considering the position, he doubted the exaggerated parley and games of debate that many of the nobility were fluent in was one of them.

“Well put,” he replied. “It’s not so much a talent, I think, as simply… knowing the ins and outs of their language. Including thinly-veiled threats and insults.”

She rolled her head towards him with a smirk. “I can’t picture you insulting anyone even on a bad day.”

“Perhaps not, but you’re aware of the company I keep. I’ve learned some things regardless.”

That dragged a grin and a laugh out of her and Dimitri felt a little pleased with himself. Pushing his own work aside, he stood up for a brief stretch as well, and then made his way over to her. The new archbishop’s large desk was the sort of mess he knew well by now, half-finished and unread letters making up just one layer of the organized chaos.

He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows—the right one a little clumsily—for a bit of relief in the stuffiness of the summer night. Opening the large windows had done little to help; even Byleth had changed out of her typical casual attire for a thin white gown that let her throat and shoulders breathe, while Dimitri was dressed down to an undershirt and pants that would normally be reserved for his personal quarters, not the archbishop’s office.

The strangeness of this casual intimacy hardly stuck out to him anymore, but that hadn’t prevented his gaze from wandering to the bare curve of her neck many times throughout the evening. It was rare to see her with her hair pulled up.

“May I?” he asked, indicating the piece of parchment that was giving her trouble.

“Mm. Please do.”

He leaned back against the desk as he read the letter. It was from a minor lord of Adrestia claiming to speak on the behalf of half a dozen names Dimitri only vaguely thought he recognized, with an enclosed list of suggestions concerning the establishment of relations between the Church and key landholders of the former imperial lands.

“Ah,” he said simply. “Demands.”

“Might as well be. I’m guessing you haven’t heard anything about this?”

“Not yet, no. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and consider the possibility that he thinks more highly of the Church than the king, but…”

He trailed off, giving Byleth room to offer her thoughts, but she was silent. He glanced down and found her staring absently at where his forearm rested against the desk. She seemed to start slightly, which was odd, and shot him a strange look before glancing at the paper in his hand, her desk, and then the opposite wall for a few beats before replying.

“Possibly. Or he’s hoping to have the Church at his back early on to use later.”

Dimitri nodded slowly, and then decided to ignore her reaction. They were both tired, after all. “That was my thought, as well.”

Byleth shook her head with a small sigh. “I’m starting to think politics just revolves around figuring out what other people want despite what they say to your face.”

“That can be a large part of it, unfortunately.” He handed the letter back. Her eyes flickered again along his bare arm. “But you’re adapting quickly,” he added with another smile. “I’m certain you’ll find your footing soon. And that you’ll do spectacularly.”

With a fond look that sent a mild shiver down his spine, Byleth moved from her chair to sit beside him on the edge of the desk. Her feet swung lightly as she stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

“The more I learn about politics, the more I realize that you don’t… seem like a politician,” she admitted. “You’re a capable leader, and I know you’ll be a good king, but it’s hard to picture you tangled up in all this…” She waved half-heartedly over her shoulder at the desk. “ _This._ ”

Her praise and how casually she delivered it made him shift his weight slightly, honored by her confidence but also self-conscious. He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s… quite a compliment. Thank you.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

She breathed a soft laugh through her nose, and then shook her head as she tapped her shoulder against his. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

“Indeed.” He mirrored her light tone, smothering the wistful pang in his chest.

“Well, we’ll be fine. I think I finally understand what you meant—about having someone by your side. At the time, I thought you were just talking about allies in general. But… after all the time we’ve spent together, I realized that’s not quite what you and I have.”

“...Oh?” Dimitri managed uncertainly.

“It’s like…” She bit her lip. “By now, I’m used to having plenty of people _around_ me, but… I haven’t really thought of anyone as being _beside_ me. Someone like that would have to be…” Her eyes found his in a searching look. “A lot like you.”

Dimitri said nothing, unsure how much would be _too_ much.

“I’ve always enjoyed your company,” she said, “but lately it feels… really natural. Like we’ve been doing this forever, not just a few months. I’m so used to you being around, it’s… different. From the rest of my friends. It’s almost like...”

“You can’t imagine being with anyone else,” he finished quietly.

The look in her eyes gave away her response before she made it. “Yeah.” After a few beats she looked away again, down at her knees. “I don’t know if—that’s how you meant it before, but… That’s how I…” She seemed to search for the word. “Feel. It’s how I feel.”

“It’s exactly as I meant it. I’ve always…” Dimitri frowned, and then amended, “For a long time I thought I wouldn’t have someone like that. Not with all the secrets I’ve kept, the things I’ve done… But you’re different, Professor. You’ve always been different. The way you’ve forced me to question myself has been terrifying at times, and yet… there was never a point when I didn’t trust you, or wasn’t grateful in the end.” He shook his head. “I have many dear to me now, but none of them are quite like you. And…” His heart was in his throat. “...I doubt anyone ever will be.”

That might have been a glimmer of surprise in her eyes, but as always, Byleth had a talent for minimizing her reaction. Her gaze dropped to his shoulder as she hummed thoughtfully, her soft mouth appearing to fight a smile.

“In other words… you’re wishing that we’ll be together forever?”

She _remembered_ that?

His face warmed. “Well—I—it… would be a rather selfish wish if you didn’t feel the same,” he answered, his words nearly slurring in their rush. “So… no, I wouldn’t wish for it. Not in the magical sense.”

Byleth’s head bobbed, her lips twisting in consideration. “And what if you thought I might feel the same?”

The simple act of raising her eyes to his face felt like a punch to his gut. His mouth suddenly felt like ash.

“Then… I would ask you. Properly.”

“Hmm.” She looked over his face slowly. He found himself doing the same, following a trail from her hairline all the way down to her mouth, where his focus lingered. “How would you go about asking something like that? If you don’t mind telling.”

Her voice was so quiet, and yet he felt her breath brush his skin with each word.

“I suppose… I would start by saying I dread the thought of being away from you. That I am happiest when I am with you… and that I want to do the same for you, if I may.” He glanced at her eyes, but they were fixed somewhere low. A few strands of his hair rested on her forehead. He hadn’t realized they were so close. “I would tell you that I want to keep sleeping beside you every night,” he went on, his voice becoming steadier as his words became bolder. “Not so I can sleep better, but so I can wake up beside you every morning. I would tell you I want these days to last forever—working and talking and sparring together. Anything you wanted to do. I would welcome both the good and the bad with you at my side.”

Their noses brushed. Her eyes were nearly closed, just a glimpse of that gentle green glittering beneath her lashes.

“I would confess that I most certainly don’t deserve you,” Dimitri murmured, “and acknowledge how selfish I would be to pursue you. And yet… in that moment, I would do just that.”

He could feel his voice humming over her lips, his breath rolling across them.

He felt her go still when he said softly,

“I would tell you that I was too desperately in love with you not to try.” 

Her quiet breath shook.

She was soft. _Warm._

Her mouth felt perfect against his. Even in those first moments of careful, featherlight touches from them both, Dimitri already knew he was ruined for anyone else as long as he lived. He would never forget the light tug of her lips, the alluring scent of her skin filling him with each breath, how quick she was to meet his fervor as they kissed a little deeper, a little faster, a little more eagerly each time.

Her hands glided along his bare arms, fingertips tracing the muscle and the scars, and for a moment he was certain her touch would withdraw in distaste. It didn’t.

He dared to touch her in return, gingerly cupping her face and pulling her closer by her hips, and he half-expected her to be offended by his boldness and push him away. She didn’t.

If he’d known how loudly the desk would creak when she reclined onto it, how jarring the sudden crackle of papers beneath their combined weight would sound, he would have anticipated it snapping Byleth out of her haze and putting an end to this. It didn’t.

She wouldn’t stop touching him. The cautious curiosity in her movements quickly gave way to something bold and certain. Her hands explored him faster, pulled him closer, held him tighter. It finally occurred to him that she _wanted_ him—or at least what he was doing—and suddenly nothing mattered except giving her just that.

There was hardly any conscious thought in the way his mouth soon wandered, kissing hungrily beneath her jaw and down her throat to the maddening curve of her collarbones. Quietly, Byleth moaned, and his skin seemed to ignite.

She stroked his hair as he continued to worship every inch of available skin—although he wasn’t bold enough to go too far down the V of her neckline—and when he finally kissed his way back up, it was slow and patient, savoring each light kiss until his mouth found hers again. Her lips parted for him as her arms wound around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer as though she might drink him in. Her tongue brushed along his lip, making him shiver, and he felt her smile.

Eventually her hold loosened, her kisses slowed, and Dimitri caught the hint. He withdrew to prop himself above her on his forearms, surprised at how hard they were both breathing and how flushed her face was, her bright irises narrowed around her wide pupils and her lips slightly swollen.

He’d always thought her beautiful, but there was something raw and intimate about the way she looked now. It was a different sort of beauty and something inside him shook at the sight of her.

When she reached up and tucked some hair behind his ear, the spell over him shattered and he averted his gaze.

“I’m—sorry if I…” He stopped. The soft smile on her face wasn’t seeking an apology. “This was… not how I wanted to tell you.”

Byleth hummed and brushed his hair back from the other side of his face, as well, as casually as could be. “I don’t know… I thought that way was just fine.” Her smile grew as fresh heat crept up his neck.

She went on fiddling with his hair, finally resting her hands on his shoulders and looking over his face slowly, considerately. “That’s really how you feel?” she asked quietly.

Dimitri almost wanted to deny it, to scramble again for an excuse and take it back. Years before, he’d largely been afraid for himself—of rejection—but now he thought only of her, and how unfair it would be to admit such a thing after all he had done and all that he was.

And yet, just now… There had been no hesitation or uncertainty in her touch. He saw none of that in her patient, expectant expression now, either.

Watching her, he realized he didn’t feel nervous.

“It is.” His voice sounded far away, as if someone else was using it. “It has been. For quite some time.”

A dozen addendums ran through his mind—the apology for putting her on the spot, for making things awkward, for not saying anything sooner, for having said anything at all, the assurance that she need not respond, the offer to forget any of this had happened—but Byleth’s calm gaze quieted all of them. She rubbed his shoulders gently, almost thoughtfully, and he found it difficult _not_ to relax.

It was trust, he realized. He trusted her with the truth. He trusted her to be honest. Whatever her response, he trusted that it wouldn’t change things, at least not for the worse. She had made it clear—in her actions long before her words—that she would always stand beside him, figuratively if not literally.

That was the sort of loyalty they had between them.

“To be honest,” Byleth mused, “all those feelings you described were…” She pressed her lips together. He already missed their touch. “I couldn’t really put them into words when I tried, but… you did.”

It took him a moment to process that.

Something must have shown on his face, since she slowly broke into a warm smile as she watched him.

“So,” she said, cupping his face in her hands, “if you did ask me—properly—like you said…” She tilted her head and brushed her thumbs over his skin. “I would tell you that I wanted those same things. And my answer to your question would be yes—I do want to be with you.” She glanced down towards his mouth, and then back to his eye. “Forever.”

He wondered if she could feel his heart in his chest right then, as rapidly as it was beating. For a moment Dimitri said nothing, stunned, and Byleth simply waited, watching his face with the same calm patience he’d come to expect from her.

Finally, he turned his face into her palm and let out a shuddering breath.

“I…” A smile stole over his face, but he couldn’t have said whether it was elated, nervous, or embarrassed. A bit of each, most likely. “That would… make me happier than I could hope to express.”

Gently, she nudged his head back towards her. “Kissing me again would be a good start.”

He laughed, a sound as amused as it was warm, and pressed his grin to hers in a chaste kiss, and then another, before they quickly fell back into their passion from before.

Some time later, they both sat on the edge of the desk again, now in mildly more unkempt states than they’d been half an hour ago. Byleth made an attempt at reconsidering her piles of paperwork, only to sigh lightly.

“Tomorrow,” she decided. “I need to sleep on some of these.”

“A wise choice. You’ll think more clearly in the morning.”

She shot him a look that was clearly meant to indicate his hypocrisy, to which Dimitri chuckled. “I’ll retire, as well.”

“Good.” She slipped off the desk and onto her feet. Dimitri’s gaze followed her, eyeing the back of her neck, which was the only part of it he hadn’t marked with his lips or teeth. She caught him staring and smirked as he glanced aside, smothering the thoughts that tugged at his imagination. “You know... the bed in the archbishop’s chambers is ridiculously big. Especially for one person.”

“...Is that so?” She had only moved into it recently, apparently under pressure from Seteth that it was both safer and more convenient than having her housed in the dorms on the opposite side of the grounds.

“Mm.” She drew closer and stopped just short of brushing up against him. The pale skin of her throat and chest were spotted with red. “All that space is uncomfortable, honestly. I was thinking having you there might fix that, especially since it’s thanks to you that I’m not used to sleeping alone anymore.”

As blunt as ever. Dimitri cleared his throat softly, unable to help a small smile. “I apologize for that. But such a thing wouldn’t cause a scandal if we were caught?”

“We’ll just make sure you aren’t seen.” She took hold of his hands, but loosely, in casual invitation rather than demand. Despite that, the glint in her eyes was the same as before—something attentive, searching, and curiously eager. Something that _wanted_.

Dimitri wondered if he had that same look in his eye as he gently gripped her hands in return.

“As you wish, Your Grace.”


End file.
